


Sixteen Years

by ViolentVioletEye



Series: Schlatt is Tubbo's Father [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Basically I wrote this from one am to four am and I regret so many things, But if you don't like it I mean you can skip it but it has critical information, Dad Jschlatt, DadJschlatt, DadSchlatt, Dream is sick, Evil Wilbur Soot, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I got big big plans, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Manipulation, Like health wise, Manipulative Wilbur Soot, Schlatt is a good guy, There's kinda someone dying from fire at the beginning but its not graphic at all, Tubbo and Schlatt are blood father and son, Villain Wilbur Soot, might be a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:01:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27132184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolentVioletEye/pseuds/ViolentVioletEye
Summary: Schlatt has been searching for his son for sixteen years. He finds him in the most unlikely place possible.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Tommyinnit & Wilbur Soot
Series: Schlatt is Tubbo's Father [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980382
Comments: 35
Kudos: 1254





	Sixteen Years

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, this has good Schlatt and Evil Wilbur. Don't like, don't read. I'm really excited to do more with this though. I'm gonna do this as a series of oneshots instead of making it like, a multi-chapter thing, so if you want updates, make sure you subscribe to the series instead of this actual writing! Cause I'm not updating this shit. 4238 words of goddamn bullshit I spewed over my keyboard from one to four o'clock in the fucking morning-

_Schlatt’s world burned all around him. He cradled his wife’s charred body in his arms, tears streaming down his cheeks. His wails filled the air, sharing space with the crackling of the fire all around him and the remains of his wife’s fragile voice._

_“Our son...they took our son…”_

_And when life died in her blue eyes, something died in Schlatt too, and he knew it would never be revived again._

**-_-_-_-_-**

Contrary to popular belief, Schlatt had never planned on joining Dream’s world.

He was a busy man, bringing money in by the buckets practically every minute. He had better things to worry about than some mask dude’s world that was apparently getting torn apart for some stupid war for independence. He had told Dream that, right to his face, when he approached him with an invite.

“What could possibly pull me away from my business?” He had sneered, white teeth almost sharp despite being a hybrid of a prey animal. And Dream had stared him down through that white porcelain mask of his, with that stupid smile drawn on with a sharpie. Honestly, how tacky could one man get? And could he stop leaning on Schlatt’s desk? It was imported, thank you very—

“Your son.”

Schlatt dropped his cigar.

**-_-_-_-_-**

He left his business in Connor’s hands. The younger boy was obviously terrified to be left by himself, but Schlatt didn’t really have the time to give the kid some pep talk that he didn’t even believe himself. The kid had fought hard to become his business partner and own fifty percent of the company. It was time he pulled his damn weight and worked for it. If Schlatt came home to the entire thing up in flames, then he would have it all doused and back on its feet in a few days. Maybe just one if he was in a good mood that day.

Whether or not he was having a good day when he returned depended on what he would find in Dream’s server. If he was being played for a fool, if he was getting drug through the servers for _nothing,_ he was going to be more than pissed. He thought he had given up on trying to find his son ages ago after he hit dead end after dead end. He thought he was done after he unraveled too many schemes from people that were even greedier than he was, so greedy they were willing to lie to a man who had lost everything years and years ago.

Not that many people knew that nowadays. He had started a new life, he had forgone his morals to drown himself in money to buy anything he lacked. But one thing he couldn’t buy was his son. He had given up on trying to do _anything_ for his son, be it buying his way to finding him, and interviewing hundreds upon hundreds of imposters in hopes he would find one person telling the truth. So, he really didn’t understand why he was trusting Dream to lead him to someone that wasn’t an imposter. Yet here he was, walking through the man’s server, trusting him to not lead him astray. He squinted up at the sky, shielding his eyes against the sun before he glanced at Dream out of the corner of his eye. They had been walking for a bit. They had passed by a few structures, but none of them had caught his eyes. There hadn’t been anyone there, either.

“Hey, as much as I’m enjoying this silent tour,” he drawled out, picking up the pace so he could step in front of Dream, who paused and stared at him through his mask. At least, he was pretty sure he was staring at him. Yeesh, the thing could be unnerving. “I got a business to go to. So, uh, take me to this kid so I can see he’s an imposter and I can go back to my life.”

Dream pointed over his shoulder, silent. Guy didn’t talk a lot, did he? Schlatt glanced over his shoulder, but all he saw was some trees. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Dream, who stared at him before he pushed him towards the trees. Schlatt sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I got the hint.” He turned on his heel and continued walking forward, pushing a branch out of the way, before he saw something that gave him pause.

People. Ha! Honest to God people. And here he was, thinking Dream had dragged him out here on a lie to kill him. Such a shame. He squinted, trying to pick up on any details from the treeline. There was a good amount of people, six at least. None of them looked very familiar until he saw… him.

WilburSoot.

Well, there was a man he had not seen in a long time. He scoffed underneath his breath, already bored of this. He didn’t know what the group was doing, or what those… very strange outfits they were wearing—what was this, the 1700s?—and quite frankly, he didn’t care. He was about to back up when he suddenly felt Dream step up beside him. Schlatt refused to admit that he jumped when the man spoke up.

“The boy with the blond hair and blue eyes.” He pointed to one of the smaller members of the group. “His name is Tubbo. And I believe he’s your son.”

Schlatt stared. Rams had an exceptional set of eyes. Schlatt could see what was behind him without even turning his head. That was another reason why he knew Dream had approached him from behind before he had even gotten there. But Schlatt was only part ram, and he had horrible fucking depth perception, which made it difficult to pick up details from far away.

“I need to get closer,” he finally said. Dream coughed into his sleeve, which Schlatt thought was quite ridiculous. He had a mask on, for Pete’s sake.

“I can get you closer,” Dream sighed. “But I can’t go with you. They don’t really… Like me, right now.”

Schlatt raised an eyebrow.

**-_-_-_-_-**

“Hey, who's that?”

Wilbur turned his head, mid-laugh, but he froze when he saw who was walking through their gate, hands pushed into their pockets as they looked around. He took a small step back, disbelief crossing his features. Well, well, well. He hadn’t seen that suit, or those horns, in a very, very long time.

“Hey!” Tommy shouted. “Who the hell are you?! You’re on L’Manberg territory—!”

_“Schlatt!”_

Tommy’s voice trailed off as he was shouted over by Wilbur, blinking in confusion at the utter _delight_ in his older brother’s voice as he sprinted past him, shoving past a couple of other members of the L’Manberg crew. The newcomer paused and watched as Wilbur sprinted up, and they didn’t even budge as Wilbur threw himself into them, wrapping his arms around them for a tight hug. Schlatt? Tommy had never heard of a man called Schlatt, and one look at his friends told him they were in the same boat.

“Where have you _been?!”_ Wilbur laughed, his arms wrapped around the stranger’s neck as he walked beside him, leading him back to the group. “It's been ages, man! I thought I’d never see you again!”

“Well, you know how it is,” Schlatt said, voice a tad bored as he glanced around the buildings they passed. Behind the group, the festival that had been going on for nearly a week to celebrate their independence was still rocking the walls with the civilians of L’Manberg. “Got a new business. Had to focus on that for a bit. Just finally got comfortable enough for a vacation.”

“Well, you picked the perfect place, my friend! Welcome to L’Manberg, my great country!” Wilbur swept his arm forward and Schlatt raised an eyebrow. He didn’t look all that impressed, and that made something in Tommy bristle. Who did this guy think he was? How did Wilbur know him?

“You’re a King, Wilbur?”

“Of course not! I’m the _President!_ Oh, oh, come meet my Vice President! Tommy, get over here!” Tommy strode forward, standing as straight as he could while squaring his shoulders. Schlatt still seemed to stare down at him as he approached and thrust his hand out.

“Tommy Innit, Vice President. Who the hell are you?” Schlatt shook his hand, his grip much firmer than Tommy’s, so much tighter than Tommy had to resist the urge to shake his hand after the handshake ended.

“Tommy, don’t be so rude!” Wilbur chastised him, though he was grinning. “Schlatt is a dear old friend of mine!”

“Sadly,” Schlatt said, voice dryer than a desert. Tommy narrowed his eyes, resisting the urge to yank his sword out and run this guy through. Who did he think he was, being so disrespectful to Wilbur?! He was the president! But Wilbur only laughed and swatted his arm, claiming he was ‘such a jokester,’ while Schlatt stared past Tommy at the rest of the crowd. They were hanging back, watching with guarded curiosity. “Who are the rest of your friends?”

“Oh!” Wilbur perked up. “Come on over, guys! He doesn’t bite, promise! But he might _ram_ you!” Schlatt gave Wilbur an unimpressed side-eyed while Wilbur laughed at his own joke, shaking Schlatt lightheartedly. Schlatt didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture, but he didn’t say anything about it while the rest of the gang came up to meet him.

He met them all. Wilbur he already knew, Tommy he had met first, and then came Jack, and Niki, and then…

“Hi! My name’s Tubbo!”

The kid’s handshake was enthusiastic but his grip was weak. That didn’t matter to Schlatt though. What mattered was the spark that rushed through his body and seized his bones, lifting his shoulders to his ears as they tensed so suddenly he knew he would be sore for weeks to come. Outwardly, the only thing that showed something had happened was the tensing of his shoulders. Tubbo, though? Well, he had the same reaction, and it made his entire body tremble.

“O-Oh, sorry! Having a bit of a cold chill, I’m afraid!” He laughed, cheeks flushing, even though it was a clear and warm summer day. Schlatt just grunted, finding himself speechless for the first time in… years. The handshake ended a little later than the rest of them, mainly because Schlatt’s head was spinning. He knew what that was. He had felt it several times before, with specific people. And all of those people had been family members. Immediate family, too. Hybrid instincts didn’t do that ‘extended family’ bullshit. He had felt it with his parents before he never saw them again, he felt it every time he saw his brother after very long periods of time, and he had felt it with his son when he held him for the very first time.

And he felt it now after he touched his son for the first time in sixteen fucking years.

“Um, dad…?”

His heart lurched and his head turned, just in time to see Wilbur give a small ‘ah!’ before he grabbed the last member’s hand and pulled him forward. He stepped in between him and Tubbo, and Schlatt gritted his teeth behind his closed lips. What the hell were they doing? They were getting between him and his son. Who the fuck even was this?

“Schlatt, this is my son!”

The kid looked like Wilbur, with his coal brown eyes, his dark brown eyes—he had fox ears but honestly, Schlatt didn’t fucking care. He wanted his son. Why were they keeping his son from him?

“That’s nice. Could you—”

“Oh, Schlatt, how long do you plan on staying?! We just recently go our independence you see, and—”

“That’s nice, Wil, can—”

“—we’re celebrating! We have been for days! But we got plenty of food and drink!”

Schlatt rubbed his temple, hand brushing against his horns. His son hadn’t grown in his horns yet, good, good, he hadn’t wanted to miss that, he would need Schlatt by his side during that horrible experience.

“And you _have_ to try Niki’s pastries, Schlatt! It’s like, it’s like heaven in bread!”

For fucks sake, had Wilbur always been such loud? He needed him to shut up and _get out of his way,_ his _son—_

A hand clasped his shoulder and his wild eyes darted up to a porcelain face, and he reached up and grabbed Dream’s hand in a bruising grip. He heard Wilbur shout and a few others shout as they scattered, reaching for weapons they didn’t have because of the festival, but there was nothing they could do. Dream and Schlatt were gone the next time they blinked, leaving nothing but a gust of wind.

**-_-_-_-_-**

Schlatt jolted back from Dream as if he had burned him. He fell back something solid, sending whatever was on it scattering across the floor. He dimly registered the scent of his office before he was overwhelmed with fury and he screamed, grabbing at his hair.

“What the fuck?!” He screamed at the masked man. “What is wrong with you?! He was there! My boy! He was right—!”

He paused as Dream began to cough, no, _hack,_ hunching over as he grabbed onto the top of the chair Schlatt kept in front of his desk for clients and visitors. Schlatt stared at him, breathing labored, nerves on his skin before he strode forward and grabbed Dream’s shoulder, yanking him forward before pushing him back into the chair. Without a word, he crossed the room to his liquor cabinet, pulling out one of the bottles of water he kept it in there for any minors or boring drinkers came to his office. He unscrewed the cap, only to crush the top, squirting water everywhere. He took a deep breath and threw the useless bottle down, ignoring the water it was still spilling as he grabbed a new one and returned to Dream’s side.

_“Here.”_

His voice was tense, angry even, but his face was surprisingly calm despite the near-meltdown he had just had moments ago. He was a businessman. He knew how to put on a front. He knew how to block his emotions. And right now, he needed to. His son didn’t need him to go off the handle. He could wait. He could wait for Dream to tell him what the fuck was going on. It was in the middle of the night and no one was in the office. He had all night. He had waited sixteen years. He could wait one more night for his son.

_His son._

“Talk to me.” By the time Dream had stopped coughing and he could drink the water, Schlatt was sitting behind his desk. He was in his element. This was his office. The one he had built out of his own two fucking hands. This was _his_ world. Dream had to answer to him in this room.

“His name is Tubbo, as you know.” Dream put the cap back on the bottle. His hands were shaking slightly, Schlatt noticed. His head was bowed, porcelain face tilted towards the floor. It was pushed up a little, and Schlatt could see chapped lips, pale skin, and freckles. “He’s sixteen years old. I had a feeling you two were related when I noticed similarities in your codes.” Schlatt narrowed his eyes. Dream stared at the floor before he looked at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What do you want?” Dream stared at him. “What do you want in return, for me to see my son? Why did you pull me away?”

“You would have attacked Wilbur. Then Tubbo would have wanted nothing to do with you. They all adore Wilbur. Perhaps a bit too much,” Dream muttered the last bit to himself and Schlatt raised his eyebrows.

“Was that _jealousy?”_ He pulled his feet down from his desk, sitting up as he leaned forward. “What, do you want me to take down your rival? Make that country crumble around them? Well, you got another thing coming, Wilbur. I’m not about to take away something my son apparently worked so hard to get—”

“You’ve got it all wrong.” Dream stood up and so did Schlatt. They were around the same height, but Schlatt tried to seem taller by looking down his nose at him. “I would like for you to take Wilbur out of his position of power, but that doesn’t mean I want you to take down that entire kingdom.” Dream put the bottle on the desk and pulled his mask back down. “They got their land, fair and square. But it’s going to crumble, or, worse, get _dangerous,_ in Wilbur’s hands.”

“Wilbur is a little shit, but he’s a good leader,” Schlatt sighed.

“While that might be true, we both know something else. And that is that Wilbur is a manipulator. How good can a man’s morales be when he tricks two sixteen-year-old boys fight in his selfish war?” Dream hissed. Schlatt paused.

“Tubbo fought you? In that damn _war?”_ His voice was low, dangerous. Dream sighed.

“I tried to avoid fighting him and Tommy as much as possible.”

“If the rumor mill isn’t lying, then you had a duel with Tommy and won.”

“I said I tried. I didn’t say I succeeded,” Dream hissed. “I can accept defeat, Schlatt, despite what the public thinks and says. They won their land. I don’t want to take that from them. But I want to keep Wilbur from taking over my entire damn server right out from under my feet.”

“You’re giving Wilbur too much credit,” Schlatt scoffed, though inside he boiled with rage. Tubbo had fought. In a war! Wilbur made two sixteen-year-old boys fight in a war and one of them was Schlatt’s son! Schlatt had fought in a couple of wars, he had the scars to prove it; but he had done that on his own accord. No one had ever manipulated him. And he had been over eighteen, thank you very fucking _much._

“I’m dying, Schlatt.”

Schlatt’s mind came to a screeching halt.

“And Wilbur is the one poisoning me.”

A tense and dark silence fell over them. Dream was a player, yes, but he wasn’t just any normal player. He was an _admin._ He ran his own server, which housed hundreds if that festival was anything to go off of. To even attempt to kill an admin permanently was worthy of a painful death in hardcore, where your code would be erased and you would never return.

“I don’t believe you.”

Dream lifted his arm and pulled his sleeve down, and there, Wilbur saw his veins were colored a sickly, corrupted red, buzzing codes and numbers he didn’t understand. He took a shaky step back, swallowing as he stared at it with horror. Dream pulled his sleeve back down, tucking his hands into his pockets. He didn’t need to say anything. His point had been made.

“Wilbur’s not that dumb,” Schlatt whispered.

“No. He’s not. But he’s crazy enough.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I can’t stop him. He’s painted me as a bad guy to his entire nation, and I will admit that I have made mistakes. But they are mistakes I can’t make up for when I’m hacking up my lungs every couple of minutes, and no one will even give me a chance, for that matter.” He pushed his mask back up, revealing his lips once more. Now that Schlatt looked closer, he did look awfully… Pale. Paler than a normal person should be. His hands were shaky, his grips were weak, and he looked awfully… skinny.

“I don’t know how he’s poisoning me. It might have something to do with my code. All I know is that I feel better when I’m away from the server. I can actually _breathe.”_ He gave a soft sigh as if it pained him to continue his thoughts. “I can’t… I can’t stay on my own server. But that’s what Wilbur wants. He has some plan, to take over my entire server, to somehow still admin privileges from me and I _cannot_ let that happen. There is more to my world than L’Manberg. I have friends there, friends I would do anything to protect, but I can’t protect them like… _This.”_

“What are you asking of me?” Schlatt asked though he had a creeping suspicion. He hoped he was wrong.

“I need you to take Wilbur down for me, or at least keep him from taking over the server while I’m recovering and trying to figure out where in my code he poisoned me. Once I’m back at full speed, I can take care of him easily enough. It’s a matter of getting there that’s the hardest part.”

“You’re asking me, to go into _your_ server, and keep my old friend from succeeding in his plans on server domination?” Schlatt snorted and shook his head. “You are desperate. Why would I ever agree to such a crazy deal? There’s nothing in it for me!”

“There is. Your son.”

Schlatt swallowed. Right. He had almost forgotten, he was so busy putting up this businessman persona he had forgotten why he had put it up in the first place.

“He’ll be in danger if Wilbur succeeds in his plans. He’s young, he’s sixteen, he’s impressionable—Wilbur can and he will ruin him for his own gain. Do you really want to lose your son? Again?”

“You sick asshole,” Schlatt hissed, turning away as he rubbed his mouth with his hand. He kept the back of his head pressed back against his lips, staring at the wall behind his desk. Hanging there was the first Schlattcoin ever made, in a secure case. He stared at it, eyes dark and calculating. He slowly narrowed his eyes. He couldn't deny that Dream was right. Something in him had been dead ever since his wife died in his arms, succumbing to her horrific burns while their home and their village burned down around them. But when he touched his son's hand... For a brief moment, he felt whole. Everything in him felt alive. And the longer he stayed away from his son, the more and more it died again. He had spent so long looking for his son, only to find himself in a position where if he didn't step in, he could lose him forever. He could be corrupted into a cruel and cunning man, or be a puppet stuck on a string. As he stared at his reflection in the glass separating him and his first coin, he knew he didn't want his son to end up anything like that.

“Think about it,” Dream growled. “He’s not going to just run off with you. He has no idea who you even are, or that he’s part ram. And Wilbur will do anything to keep him there, another puppet on the string for him to bend and manipulate!” Schlatt’s other hand curled into a fist. “He’s already breaking him down. Him and Tommy. I’m afraid Tommy’s too far gone, that he can’t be saved or helped, and Tubbo will just be next! He followed Tommy everywhere! The kid doesn’t know when he’s being _used—!”_

Dream shut the fuck up when Schlatt put a hole in the glass case holding his first Schlattcoin with his fist. The shards laid at his feet, his breathing labored as every fiber in his being screamed for him to go back to that server, draw his son into his arms, and take him far, _far_ away. The seconds ticked by, turning into minutes while Dream worried Schlatt was going to charge through his own desk to get to him.

Finally, Schlatt turned on his heel and looked Dream right in the eye. “What’s your plan?” He growled. Dream stared at him before he gave a weak smile and pulled the mask back down.

“Wilbur is planning an election, to make his presidency official. People have been talking. But he’s going to keep it a secret, him and Tommy. I can make sure it gets out, but that’s all I can do. After that, I have to leave. I’ll be taking my friend Sapnap with me as a bodyguard, but I’ll be leaving my other friend; George. He can help you win the election.”

“You want me to win the election.” Schlatt was dumbfounded. How much fate did this masked boy have in him? “How the hell will I do that? I’m a stranger. And my reputation isn’t sparkling clean.”

“I’ve also seen your work, Schlatt.” Dream tilted his head. “You’ll talk your way in just fine.” The corner of Schlatt’s mouth curved up.

“Hm. Yeah, alright. Say I win. Then what?”

“Do what you have to to keep Wilbur from holding _any_ power, and keep him _away_ from as many people as possible. Figure out a way, you’re smart. I trust you to blow up my server.” Schlatt would have snorted, but he wasn’t in a joking mood today.

“How’re we gonna explain my sudden departure.”

“Simple. I had no clue who you were, and I don’t let people into my server without being screeched first. It’ll make Wilbur think I’m weaker than I actually am, believing you got past my borders.”

Schlatt had to admit; this kid was smart. Dream adjusted his mask, letting out a soft sigh as he smoothed his hair back down against his head. “I will keep in contact with you as much as I can, but I’ll have to limit it. Any connection with my server could poison me and throw me all the way back to square one in the healing process.”

Schlatt waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, so I’ll be all on my own, and if I fuck up, I gotta figure it out for myself.” He looked at the coin he was gripping in his hand. His knuckles had dried blood on them. Huh. He hadn’t even realized they were bleeding. He shoved the coin into his pocket and fixed Dream with one of his signature smirks, wide, condescending, and oh so confident.

“When does the election start?”

He bet every dollar that he had that Dream smiled back.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this first part of the series! Let's hope I get the second bit out soon. I'm most excited about the parts that'll come after the election, and I'm very excited to develop characters. Who knows, maybe my 'Nightmare' fic will fit into this universe.


End file.
